Vanity
by kysis-the-bard
Summary: Bruce Banner discovers the awkward way that some of his "coworkers"- Tony especially- have secrets.


**Disclaimer:**__I don't own Marvel or any of the characters found therein. I just write this stuff for fun.

**Warnings:** men in relationships, snark and sarcasm maybe, nothing too heavy.

**Author's Note:** This was inspired by the fact that though RDJ's epic goatee has some salt and pepper going on in it, for the Avengers movie, it did not. So, here's some crack. Does this quality as crack? I think it does.

VANITY

There were a great many things he had never known about his fellow "Avengers" until he lived with them. Part of it could be attributed to his self-imposed exile—or at least that was what Tony kept calling it—and how he avoided watching any news, even when he had access to it, which had not been often. Even then, it seemed as though S.H.I.E.L.D. had kept its league of super heroes under wraps until the last possible moment—again, Tony was the exception—so learning of any of them was next to impossible.

That changed when he took up the offer to stay in the Stark Tower. It was supposed to be temporary. A transition. Maybe. He hadn't been entirely sold on that either, even after the Other Guy's gold star behavior during the invasion.

Each member of their "super secret boy band", as Tony insisted on calling it, had secrets. It came with the territory. Bruce wasn't one to pry, either, so they could keep their secrets. Of course, it would have been easier to manage if suddenly each of them didn't have a floor of the Tower designated for personal use and living, and if they didn't share a kitchen and some other facilities.

Some things he could easily ignore. Some situations just made ignoring the issue absolutely impossible, mainly Tony leaned over the vanity in his bathroom, a little plastic comb in hand as he carefully dyed the hair of his goatee.

Bruce let out a little sound, somewhere between surprise and a sigh, more of the latter, and probably stared for a moment longer than he should have, because suddenly Tony was frozen, eyes large and mouth open.

"This isn't—"

"Tony—"

"I'm just keeping it tidy. Grooming. You—"

"Tony, I—"

"Facial hair can have a serious amount of sass some mornings—"

"TonyIdon'tcare." Bruce breathed it all out at once, a quick whoosh of words, and miraculously, Tony didn't interrupt him again. Really, it was a miracle to get out a full thought sometimes with Tony around. That said, the silence which followed his statement was even rarer.

Tony wet his lips and quickly made a face, no doubt getting some of the dye on his tongue. That probably wasn't healthy. Or entirely safe. Bruce fought both of his urges, one to turn and just leave, the other to make sure Tony hadn't gotten a significant amount of dye on his tongue, the result paralyzing him just a few steps outside of the bathroom.

When Tony didn't turn back to do what he had been doing, continuing to stare, Bruce remembered he had come here for a reason. Bruce forced a small smile, shuffling for a moment before running a hand back through his hair.

"You know, you're a bit of a hypocrite."

Tony blanched, but didn't say anything, heading the hand Bruce raised—for once.

"You told me not to worry about the grey in my hair. How did you put it? It… makes me more distinguished?"

That earned him an eye roll, though not an entirely deserved one, considering. "It's you." Tony turned back to the mirror, touching up a few more spots before quickly hiding what he was doing all together.

"I don't see how that changes anything."

Tony turned, sauntering out in the room. Even with his goatee glistening and freshly blackened, he could still effectively control any space he was in, just as Bruce could effectively vanish into just about any space. Any space but this one, it seemed, since all of Tony's intense focus was on him.

"This is me. This is _mine_." Tony gestured at his face, flashing one of his bright, camera ready smiles. "_That_ is you, Doctor. Worn, a little wear and tear, but wise. The grey reflects wisdom."

"Which you have, but you hide."

"Please." Tony barked a laugh. "Don't let anyone else hear you say that. They won't believe you."

"And yet you ask me to believe in myself, to prove to other people that I can be believed in." Bruce pointed, adopting yet another of Tony's gestures. It seemed he was adopting more and more of them lately. "Hypocritical."

"Narcissistic. If we're being technical." Tony shoved his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips. He glanced quickly between Bruce's face and his clipboard.

"Yeah. I, uh, ran the numbers again, and figured this couldn't wait—"

Tony interrupted him with his lips, goatee biting and sharp against his skin. One moment he was there, and the next he was walking, activating screens around his personal space as though nothing had happened.

Bruce touched his lips with a frown, feeling the dye which had been left behind.

This was certainly going to be impossible to explain away to their co-inhabitants.


End file.
